


The Emperor's Ward

by winter_dreaming



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Angst and Feels, Drama, F/M, Lorca on a leash, Mirror court politics, Multichapter, Original Character(s), Rebellion, Romance, Seduction, Slow Burn, Welcome to the ISS Wrath, long live the emperor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-03-12 12:29:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13547349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_dreaming/pseuds/winter_dreaming
Summary: Traitor Gabriel Lorca is about to be executed for his crimes against the Terran Empire: the attempted coup against Emperor Georgiou (may her justice nourish and protect us) and the violation of Princess Michael, Scourge of the Stars. At least, that's the official story...Lorca, captain of the ISS Wrath, was hoping to drink himself to death in a quiet, forgotten corner of the galaxy, until one day, the Emperor wanted to teach her daughter a harsh lesson about life. Their comparative isolation and loneliness makes for strange bedfellows...and even stranger mutineers.I've reimagined Lorca and Michael's lives weaving things from other Star Trek continuities as the inspiration takes me, so please don't ding me for that. My goal is internal consistency :)





	1. How long is forever?

**Author's Note:**

> Scenes inspired by Star Trek Discovery -- spoilers abound, but also just making everything up as I go. This will likely be 8 to ten chapters.

If he had a choice between the steel in Michael Burnham's eyes and the vacuum of space surrounding the ISS Charon, he'd be hard pressed to say which one would kill him more quickly.

But he never had a choice. 

Not really. 

If he had, Captain-sorry-former captain, currently failed mutineer Gabriel Lorca wouldn't be on his knees awaiting death. 

And yet, here we are. 

Emperor Georgiou (long may she reign) had already delivered an excoriating speech in her private quarters, and shown him her wounded heart and betrayed spirit with every cut, every strike she landed on his body. She'd beaten him half to death before Michael had pulled her away, stroking her hair, soothing her Emperor, her savior, her mother. Michael had barely spared a glance for Lorca's crumpled body. Just as they'd agreed. 

Public executions were practically a leisure activity for the Terran Empire, made ordinary by their frequency, but the execution of the most trusted adviser of an Emperor (may her dominion last a thousand years) had pushed this gruesomely rote activity into a sublime celebration. Faced with the embarrassment of misjudging her top commander as well as the weakness it implied, the Emperor (slow deaths to her enemies) had simply chosen to meet head on those eager gossips, the buzzards circling lazily around the carrion of her power, and those waiting to throw their lot in with whichever victor would tolerate their inconstant allegiance. Meet them head on and, in the Terran fashion, throw the wildest, most violent spectacle they'd ever seen. 

She'd already re-established power with a vengeance, Lorca realized from his vantage point of the floor. He saw no plotting on passing faces, no furtive glances or secret signals for assassination. He had tried and failed to overthrow his Emperor (protector of the galaxy) and to steal and ruin her favorite daughter, the Princess of Vulcan, Sword of Qo'noS, Ice of Andor, Michael Burnham. And somehow, Georgiou was still coming out ahead.

He waited, trying to still the fear in his mind, trying to make sure he played his part until the end. He had to - Michael's safety, the future of their world, a free world, depended on it. So, when the Emperor (our eyes are unworthy of her beauty) circled him, her long golden dress rustling across the floor, a drink in one hand and a serrated blade in the other, he continued to wait. 

"Those who join us here this night, will see quite the revelation," she teased. "This…man…thought he could destroy our imperial rule with his petty scheming and transparent ruses. We allowed him this, to discover his conspirators, the treacherous among us, those unworthy of our favor." The crowd began to stir nervously, suddenly wondering if their invitation had more of an edge than they'd realized. She waited as the guests gradually settled down when none of them suddenly dropped dead of poison or was shot from the interior balconies of the palace where her imperial snipers stood watch. 

She held up a hand for silence. "But then, he came after my beloved daughter, the jewel of my empire, and your future ruler. That could not be borne. This man," she paused, "look at him. All of you, look." 

He felt the weight of their eyes on him. 

"Do you believe he actually thought he could succeed? That he could ruin that which is most precious to me? He has lost everything. He is no one. So what do you think? Kill him now? Or teach him a lesson of what it is to be no one? What say you?" 

The crowd began to chant: _No one, no one, no one._

__She smiled brightly. "Let_ no one_," she smirked, "say I ignore the wishes of my people. Very well!" She removed a long golden strand from her dress and pulled it taut over her head. 

___"Now, you are no one," she pronounced and gently looped it around his bare neck. "Come, Lorca. We have guests to entertain," she said and tugged on the leash.___

___He stood and meekly followed her as she made her way to the throne where she would spend the remainder of the evening, watching the social currents drift around her. Lorca resumed his former position on his knees, hands bound, eyes cast down, reacting compliantly when his Empress (her word is law and her law is just) jerked the leash for her amusement._ _ _

__So, he counted. He counted the number of times Michael had surprised him with a kiss in some darkened hallway, some remote outpost (too many, that's how they must have been caught). He counted the number of times he'd called her name the last time they fucked (too many to count, her name was an endless chant, the prayer on his lips) He counted the number of times he told her that he loved her (never. She was too precious and his love for her was poison, killing whatever it touched.)_ _

__He regretted the last now._ _

The crowds, returned to their former buzzing of clinking glasses and gossip, were currently satisfied they would neither miss his execution nor be executed themselves. And then they quieted. The crowd began to ripple outward, the whispering increased and all saluted and bowed as she walked by. Princess Michael. His breath came faster and he willed himself to look at the ground, at the golden beaded edges of her black gown, to not to give anything away, but if he could just see her one last time before…

He felt her strong hands grab his chin and tilt it up to for examination. To an outsider, her face was void of expression, the dark jewels of her eyes competing against the lipstick on the determined slash of her lips. But he knew her, and while her mother knew and ignored it, he knew her and basked in the depth of her emotions running beneath the surface of her steadfast moral compass. Determined…steadfast…in a moment of horror, he understood. 

"No!" he shouted, trying to twist his face out of her hands. But she held him like a vice, her eyes never leaving his. 

Behind her, the Emperor (her strength carries the world on her back), laughed in delight that after her beating, after days in the Agonizers, he'd finally broken. 

"Michael, don't do this," he urged. 

"He begs my daughter for his life," Georgiou crowed to the tittering crowd. 

"Michael, please!" he begged – before she struck him – one solid blow to the side of the head, enough to drop him to the floor and disorient, but leave him conscious. His head rang with the impact as _stupid, stupid, stupid_ echoed through his head. 

"Does his pitiful display disturb you, dear?" Georgiou asked in surprise. 

"Mother, I tire of this game," she sighed. "There's no sport in it." 

"A wise choice, my daughter. Let us not waste another moment on him." 

She raised the knife, still playing to her audience. "You will forever be known as the no one who failed her Emperor, who failed his fool mutineers, who failed his Empire. Forever will it stand!" she finished triumphantly as the imperial greeting resounded through the expansive hall as she handed the blade casually over. 

"Michael?" 

"Sometimes, mother, forever is just one second," Michael said and then the world erupted into a blinding ball of light and heat and pain.


	2. Begin at the beginning

"Captain Lorca?" A voice in the darkness, piercing through the haze and pain. It wasn't the right voice, however, so he ignored it. It would go away soon enough. He heard a sigh of frustration and a muttered conclusion: "Drunk again." 

"Captain Lorca, wake up!" 

" _Goooooawyyyyy_ ," he groaned. 

"Alright, sir. You asked for it." 

A new sound intruded on his awareness…something like the clink of glass and…trickling, trickling like water. 

He opened his eyes just in time to see Commander Landry throw the cup of freezing cold water into his face. 

"Son of a bitch, Landry!" He jerked his head up in surprise and promptly hit himself with the underside of the table he was currently laying under. On the floor, naked aside from his regulation shoes and socks of all things. 

He scowled at the unforgivably sober face above him. "Get me some clothes, commander." 

"Why?" she countered. "It's nothing I haven't seen before." 

He squinted at her, suddenly aware of the image he was presenting: unshaven, slack muscles drenched in stale sweat, formerly bright blue eyes crusted over with sleep and apathy. 

"And nothing I want to see again," she concluded, tossing him a towel. 

"I said clothes, dammit! There had better be a massive escape attempt underway to excuse this interruption," he barked. 

"Nothing you have is clean," she sniffed the air in disgust. "And you need to shower." 

"What's it matter to you if I'm like this? As you said, Landry, it's nothing you want to see again," he said bitterly, aware that while he didn't want her anymore, the previous release they'd found in each other had been purely physical, he didn't want her _not_ to want him. 

For the first time in the two years since Lorca had taken over command of the ISS Wrath containment vessel at the ass-end of the galaxy, Landry looked worried. Not just worried. Terrified. He got clumsily to his feet, wincing at the aches in his back and the sour taste in his mouth. _What was I drinking? Romulan ale?_ He wondered. _What else was I drinking_ , he amended as he took stock of the collection of tipped over bottles and empty containers at Landry's feet. 

"What is it?" 

"Sir..I…" 

"Ellen," he said softly, "give me the bad news first." 

She swallowed nervously. "It's the Emperor, sir." 

"Dead?" he guessed. The power struggle that would erupt in her wake; all the prisoners of her machinations that might receive amnesty, the petitions from – 

"No, sir." 

"Then long may she reign," he supplied automatically. "So what's the problem?" 

"She's here." 

"Here?" Lorca asked. "What do you mean 'here'?" 

"She arrived by shuttle one hour ago –" 

"By shuttle?" 

"She's been awaiting your…appearance," Landry said. 

"By appearance, do you mean, sobriety?" 

"Gabriel, stop it!" she finally broke. "The Emperor and her advisor arrived on an unmarked shuttle, dressed as science officers, and have been waiting for you for an hour. She commanded me to keep her in my quarters and to speak to no one until I'd brought you to her. We're lucky we've got some new crew coming on today. They're eager to tour the facility and get to work. They were able to slip in unnoticed in all the chaos." 

"Yeah, that'll last about five minutes," he said and refocused. "Okay, an hour with the Emperor, no wonder you're shaken," he said thoughtfully. "I apologize for my appearance, commander, and the difficulty my state has put you in." 

"Just get dressed, sir." 

"Shower first," he said. 

"Shower first, she agreed. "But make it quick." She held his gaze. "Lorca, I am not going to be executed because you got black-out drunk last night. Do you understand me?" 

He held up his hand. "I understand, Elle." 

She blushed, flustered at the reminder of more intimate times, and left. Which was, after all, exactly why he'd done it. 

He'd been naked in front of a lover who'd never loved him but had taken the distraction he provided, about to face death for no reason that he could think of – the prison guards had quickly learned to disable his comms when he drank to avoid any diplomatic incidents or malfeasance, and his crew could possibly be facing death because of him. A mass purge would put lie to his delusion that his drinking hurt no one but himself and while being wrong was painful to him, having a former-not-lover point out that wrongess was intolerable. 

And the absolute worst part of this entire shitshow was the simple fact that Captain Gabriel Lorca of the ISS Wrath of the Terran Detention Force was nursing one hell of a hangover.

"Captain Lorca, how _kind_ of you to honor us with your presence," the Emperor said, not deigning to look at him as he entered Landry's rooms, her gaze seemingly fixed on the stars visible through one small window. The hooded adviser sat on Landry's tidy bed, underneath a painting that he didn't recognize. _When did she put that up?_ He wondered. _Has it always been there? Maybe it has…not like we spent a lot of time studying the décor_. 

_I will die tonight_ , Lorca thought. He considered what he'd heard of the Emperor since his…retirement? Resignation? Three years before…well, before everything went to hell. Back then, she'd admired boldness, but not arrogance. Flirtation but not swagger. Intelligence, but not genius. Just enough of everything to entertain, but not to threaten. He could only hope that was still the case and that her unnamed adviser wasn't a player in this game. 

"I won't apologize for my state, Emperor, only that I inconvenienced you. The ISS Wrath is hardly accustomed to receiving such…distinguished guests – at least on this side of the bars." He bowed over his hand, looked up, and grinned. 

This time, she did look, regarded him solemnly, and then laughed. 

"Captain Lorca, it is good to see that while your hospitality is rusty, your charm has survived intact." 

"Commander Landry will have offered you food and drink, I trust?" He already knew the answer but wanted to make a show of caring. Landry knew her stuff and her quarters, while far smaller than Lorca's were had an austere appeal to them. He noted the small serving tray with whatever delicacies she had hidden away. 

"Indeed. Her fearful generosity knows no bounds. You may go," she said, finally looking Landry in the eye. 

"We serve the Empire every day; serving the Emperor directly is a rare and disorienting prize," he protested, feeling a surge of protectiveness toward his commander. She had accepted a terrifying presence in her rooms, her sanctuary, shared her own food and drink knowing that her life was in the hands of someone with tortuous whims. After two years at the helm of the Wrath, he had no delusions of justice - he knew you could end up in an agonizer for no reason at all. For saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. For being too clever, too quick, too charismatic. Not charismatic enough. Any reason at all. 

"And besides," he continued, "whatever mission you have will require her assistance. She's the most capable commander here." 

"Your mission," the Emperor mused. "What do you know of my family, Lorca?" 

_Oh shit. Is she here? Did we accidentally...? Does she want her here?_

"You have one daughter, by the name of Michael. She'd be around 18, 20 years old now? I met her once – a child's birthday party on the Charon, that I was lucky enough to attend at your behest." He nodded again in her direction by way of thanks. "She was very well-behaved," he recalled, thinking of the determined, solemn face of a child surrounded by guards. 

"You will meet her again, though I doubt you will find her so well-behaved." At this, she directed a hard look toward the sitting figure, who in turn removed her hood. 

_fuckfuckfuck_. 

"Princess Michael!" he and Landry both threw a hasty salute in her direction.

"Now, there's no need for any of that. My daughter no longer wishes to be a princess, no longer wishes to be in line for the throne. Isn't that _right_ , Michael?" The Emperor tossed a look of pure derision toward the girl and returned to staring out the window. 

Lorca's heart beat quickly in his chest at the… _well, you can't even call them undercurrents, can you, these are some damn riptides in this conversation. A mother daughter spat? The exile of the heir-apparent?_ As always, he put these questions to the side and sought refuge in the practical. 

"Why would you like us to do, Emperor?" he asked. 

"You need guards, don't you?" 

"Guards?" Landry echoed. 

"Yes, you know, the ones that keep criminals from escaping," the Emperor retorted. "Guards, the crew of this vessel, all sorts of staff needed to see my justice done throughout the galaxy." 

"Yes, Emperor. We always need guards. And crew," Lorca added truthfully. 

"Then get her a uniform," she ordered. 

Lorca nodded at Landry who went to fetch their new…crewmate some clothing. _This is her day for rounding up clothes for people who don't want to be here_ , he thought idly. 

"Pri-" he stopped. "I heartily apologize, Emperor." He began again, "Michael, you'll find a lot of hard work waiting for you. There's no free ride on this ship." Landry returned with an assortment of uniforms with differing ranks. 

_Smart_ , he thought. _They're on the outs now, but no one's ego likes the shame of their daughter being formally demoted. Very clever, Elle_. 

"A lieutenant will do for now," the Emperor purred. "Lead her to her new quarters," she commanded. "I have some matters to address with Captain Lorca." Landry nodded and led the still silent Michael to the door. 

"Michael?" the Emperor called. 

Her daughter paused and turned to face her. "You said you felt like a prisoner? You wanted to be _free_?" she sneered. "Oh, daughter, you'll soon find out what prison is really like and that freedom exists only at my side. Now get out of my sight." 

Michael nodded once, still holding the armful of clothing, and followed Landry out the door. 

"Lorca, do you remember what I told you, when you asked for this commission? Flush with your victory, awarded the imperial star, made a hero of the Terran Empire?" 

The only thing he'd been flush with by then was drink, but this was not the time for correction. 

"Yes, Emperor. I remember. You thought I'd lost my mind." 

"I gave this to you – delivered this little sanctuary right into your hands." She gestured around the room. "I said that if my top captain wants to throw his life away over a little misunderstanding, so be it." 

Lorca schooled himself against reacting. _A misunderstanding? Damn you to hell. I can't sleep without a fucking bottle of booze in me because of that little misunderstanding. Screaming in the night that no amount of fucking or violence can tame_. 

"My advisers warned me against it," she continued. "They said you were weak and I should make an example of you. Instead I gave you a commission here and made examples of them. They were right, you are weak. I look at you now and all I see is that weakness. But I also see potential…your weakness brings an unexpected gift – a lack of ambition. So, what did I tell you, Lorca, two years ago?" 

"You told me that even broken things have their uses," he recited, careful to keep his expression neutral. 

"Exactly. Michael will never be weak like you, but she is lost. She needs to be taught a lesson…somewhere out of the way, where my enemies would never think to look. Somewhere safe…somewhere she can see the consequences of weakness firsthand. So she can see how it destroys you, makes you pathetic." She regarded him almost sadly. "I'd hoped to have you as my right hand, Gabriel. You won us the war, after all. Your genius, your strategy, your loyalty brought peace to the galaxy. Terran children memorize the dates of your battles in school." 

"I am still loyal, Emperor," he said softly. 

"Yes, I suppose you are. And loyalty from a broken thing is better than no loyalty at all," she considered before returning to the business at hand. "Michael won't last the month before she begs you to send her back to me. Make it a hard month- show her the agonizers and so forth- and mind you she keeps up with her combat and linguistics training." 

"Yes, Emperor." 

"One more thing. To compensate you for your help with this matter, whatever you wish will be delivered by shuttle every month of her stay...with a down payment for this first month of course." She pulled a bottle of Klingon bloodwine from her robes and set it down on the table. 

He eyed the black, ridged bottle warily, unable to keep himself from licking his lips. 

"Shall we drink?" she asked, her brown eyes twinkling with cruel glee at his reaction. 

"To you, Emperor?" he asked, when he took the glass from her hand. 

"Not this time," she said. "To…broken things. And that what is lost, will be found." 

"To the broken and the lost," he repeated. 

_To you, Michael_ , he added silently. _May your stay be long enough for me to get decently drunk and short enough that it doesn't hurt anyone I actually care about_.


	3. The King said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just the start of chapter 3. Sorry to post incompletely as I write but it motivates me!
> 
> Lorca meets a new, young and beautiful crewmember on the ISS Wrath. And well, he IS Lorca.

When the bloodwine finally wore off, it had been two full days and Pri-sorry- Lt. Mika Filiana had already survived three prisoner attacks, two attempted rapes, and one probable case of food poisoning. 

"Well, someone's been busy," he remarked when Landry had finished updating him on what he'd missed while he'd been…resting. Insensible. Resting insensibly, the best of both worlds. "Is she-" 

"They'll live," Landry assured him with a small smile. 

" _They'll_ live? I guess we don't have to worry about that combat training," he said, running a hand through his shower damp hair. "What's with the name?" 

"It was provided to us by...her sponsor." 

"Great. How is she settling in aside from…all that?" 

"Fine. She's very capable," Landry admitted. 

"Just don't get too attached, commander. You heard…her mother," he finished, wary of the crew passing them in the narrow hallway. "She won't last the month." 

"Captain Lorca?" 

"Yes, ensign?" He looked absentmindedly at the young crew member now saluting him. 

"We've got the latest numbers from the interro wards." 

"Thank you. With me, ensign. I want to have access to the full reports when you brief me…and I know how much you like strays, commander, _don't_ get attached," he repeated, stabbing a finger in Landry's direction. 

"I liked you, didn't I?" Landry muttered under her breath before heading off for her morning rounds. 

Lorca walked quickly through the identical hallways thinking about Landry's painting, what interro numbers would indicate, the three prisoners who had attacked Burnham, the two people who had tried to rape Burnham and if they were prisoners or crew, when he slammed into the ensign who had suddenly stopped in front of him. 

"Dammit, ensign. What's the matter with you?" 

"I'm sorry, sir. I think the ready room is this way." 

"You _think_?" he asked incredulously. 

"I'm sorry, sir. It's my second day and –" 

"You're still finding your way around this labyrinth," he finished. 

"Yes, sir." 

"No problem, then. This place is a maze and that's not accidental. It's designed that way to minimize the effects of any prisoner escapes. Maps, schematics are closely held, so don't ask for one." 

He looked more closely at the uniform and the extremely nervous face now in front of him. "Ensign Tyler, is it?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"No relation to -" 

"Yes, sir. He's my brother." 

"I see." 

"He's never mentioned me, I guess." 

"Ensign Tyler, there are three things that the ISS Wrath protects more zealously than any prisoner: good alcohol, maps or schematics, and the identity of beautiful women. Ash was right not to tell anyone about you. No crewmate in their right mind would ever allow him to talk about anything else." He smiled at her, enjoying the rosy flush that came to her cheeks. 

"I..I see, sir," she now looked nervously at everywhere but Lorca, which amused him even further. He appraised her quickly. He normally didn't waste his charms on anxious virgins, but he also didn't normally see such a beautiful woman on the Wrath either. And his bed, and heart though he would never admit it, did have a Landry-sized hole in it. 

"He told me all about his work here…he didn't mention the maze part," she continued, trying to regain her conversational footing. 

"He told you about it and you signed up anyway? Wonders never cease," he joked. "Well, since I am your captain and this is your second day, you'll allow me to show you around the maze after we finish for the day. I'm Gabriel Lorca, welcome aboard." He shook her hand, holding onto it for much longer than was strictly necessary, wanting her to get used to his touch, his hands. 

"Ava Tyler, sir." 

"Ava," he repeated. "You know Ash is quite the troublemaker, sometimes thinks the rules don't apply to him. I hope we won't have similar trouble with you." 

"It depends on the rule...sir," she added, her warm brown eyes sparkling as she briefly allowed an undeniably playful smile to surface before remembering she was on duty. 

He reappraised her – neither anxious nor virginal by any means. Shy and professional. And beautiful. 

He smiled and looked deeply into her eyes. "The ready room is this way, ensign." 

This day was getting better and better.

He buried himself in paperwork after Tyler left him, impressed again by her professionalism and the hidden promise in her smile. He told her to come by the bridge after she was done for the day and he'd show her the place. Interro numbers were down- the same as they always were this time of year. Some pre-imperial holiday lending the prisoners some spirit. He had no idea how they knew; the Wrath took great care to keep the normal passage of time from them, but every year without fail, they knew. 

The desk's comms device crackled into life. 

"Captain Lorca?" 

"Go ahead." 

"Priority transmission coming through, secure channel 11." 

"Patch it through," he said, his mouth dry. _Channel 11 was normally an emergency channel or –_

"Good evening," the Emperor said. 

_Or a head of state call. Great._

"Good evening, Emperor. How may I serve you?" 

"Did my message get through?" 

"Your message?" 

"I granted some favors in exchange for getting a private message to my…lieutenant." 

_Shit._

"I apologize, Emperor, but all messages to prisoners and crew alike are centrally routed to avoid any security risks. There's no such thing as a private message aboard the Wrath." 

A knock on the door. 

"One moment, Emperor," he said softly and muted the device. "Come in!" 

A junior lieutenant stood at the door, shifting nervously from foot to foot. 

"Don't just stand there, son, come in. Why didn't you try and reach me first?" 

"I, I couldn't get through, captain." 

_Riiight. Channel 11 could not be interrupted. How could I have forgotten about that?_ "No problem, son. What do you need?" 

"Nothing sir. I just needed your signature on the data pad. " 

"Sure, what for?" 

"The out-processing, sir? And the crew resignations." 

"Out-processing? No one's sentence is up for another 2 years at the minimum." He scanned the names on both lists. Five names – the three prisoners who attacked Burnham, and the two guards who tried to rape her. His lip curled instinctively in anger. _That sort of message._

"Leave the data pad with me, son, I'll take care of it." 

"Yes, sir!" 

He took a deep breath to remove the tight rage from his voice and then resumed communications. "My apologies for the interruption, Emperor. I see some sentences have been commuted." 

"For services to the Empire," she purred. 

"And the sudden crew resignations?" 

"Such faithful crew you have- faithful to money, of course. Neither the prisoners, nor the crew knew it was me. The poor lieutenant owes money to the wrong people," she tutted sadly. "While the debt is being slowly paid off with her wages, the insult was not forgiven." 

Bile rose in his throat. _Your own daughter,_ he thought. _Your own damn daughter._ He flashed back to the too-solemn girl aboard the Charon. A girl he had hardly spared a passing thought for. A girl raised by a woman like this -- what other horrors would she have endured? What would he allow to happen to her now? 

"You've provided an excellent introduction to the Wrath, Emperor. Such things would have happened sooner or later. While no crew or prisoner had any chance of seriously harming her with her training and background, she will indeed be hard pressed to remain here longer than a month. Will there be any more such messages? I'd like to minimize any harm that could come to my crew if they should intervene on her behalf." 

"Excellent point, captain. I will inform you of the date of the next message." 

_Not good enough, Gabe. You can do better_ , he told himself. He thought quickly. "If I may offer a suggestion, Emperor?" 

"We will hear it." 

"Allow some time to pass. The attacks were effective because they reinforce the violent and dangerous nature of our work and the low caliber of crew we sometimes are forced to employ. Other crew mates will be relating their own stories of violence to her. But you have raised a fierce daughter, how could she be otherwise? If she suspects you are behind the attacks, she may choose to remain here to stubbornly prove her point. As it stands, the attacks tell her about the nature of this world; if she knew otherwise, they would simply tell her what she already knows: that you love her and want her to come back. A daughter may fight her mother, Emperor, but she seldom tries to fight the world." He sensed she was listening intently, so he continued. 

"Your goal, if I may say so, is to unmoor her from her youthful fancies and help her find her way back to herself. Frequency of messages would allow her to adapt, resourceful as she is. Another message will be all the more disorienting once she's begun to settle in, to feel safe." He bent over his arm in the traditional salute. 

The Emperor remained completely still, but when he finally straightened, he could see the open admiration on her face. 

"Now, I remember why we won the war," she said softly. 

_Because you have monstrous dreams and once more I make them a reality,_ he thought, but bowed over his arm. 

"You are too generous, Emperor. Forever may you reign." The bile rose in his throat again. 

"If you keep performing like this, she will not be the only one returning to her position of power," the Emperor said before closing the comms link. 

"It is my honor to serve you," he said hollowly. 

When he was certain the comms link was closed, he buried his face in his hands. In spite of his rage, a small part of him had rejoiced at her words. The chance to escape this horrible world, one that exposed imperial hypocrisy, Terran hypocrisy. He'd come here to punish himself, but he was not a man naturally inclined to self-punishment. He was built for self-gratification. _Drinking myself to death on silk sheets,_ he thought. _Tempting. At least I wouldn't have to destroy a planet this time. Just one girl._

He opened the comms link again. "Commander Landry, this is Lorca. Where is Lt. Filiana?" 

"Landry here. The infirmary, sir. They wanted to check on her before clearing her for duty." 

"Thank you. What's her duty station again?" 

"The Abyss," Landry said, the distaste clear in her voice. 

"Of course, it fucking is," he muttered. 

No new member of the Wrath was ever assigned to Ward 1, known by crew and prisoner alike as the Abyss. It was the worst assignment on the ship, was one of the highest paid, with the highest attrition rate as well through crew transfers or suicides. Many wards were simply for containment – keepers, they were called. Many were for getting questions answered – the interro wards. The abyss was for sadistic experimentation. To break a person down fingernail by fingernail, for no other reason than to see how quickly it could be done. Rape, forced impregnation, amputation, induced psychosis – all of these were just forms to fill out at the end of the week for the inhumane assholes who worked there. It was a monster's playground. 

"Landry –" 

"Captain, on a completely separate matter, I trust you've seen the out-processing chits and resignation forms?" 

"Yes, commander. As you thought, a completely separate matter." He heard her exhale in frustration. 

"I'll tell the other prisoners that the offenders were killed and ensure the others guards are clear their crewmates are being transferred due to criminal activities." 

He rubbed his forehead, "Oh?" 

"We wouldn't want any unsanctioned actions, now would we?" 

"Landry, you're a genius," he sighed. "How will you make it stick?" 

"The guards have already suffered a punitive…reeducation. I'll let them know that they don't leave here until the data pads are signed. And data can be…waylaid. If her mother asks, you can say that knowing the special status of our new lieutenant, I naturally feared for her safety." 

"Naturally." 

"When is the next encounter?" 

"Not for a little while," he said, replaying the conversation in his head. 

"Don’t forget, captain, I worked in the abyss. I'll keep an eye on her. I'll know if she's…in danger." 

"Don't get –" 

"Attached. Yes, you keep saying that." 

"Yes, I do, commander. And you keep refusing to agree," he said, his voice taking on an edge. It had only been two days and already Landry was putting herself at risk. 

"Yes, yes I do, don't I? Landry out." 

"Son of a bi-" The channel closed. His anger at her dismissal quickly faded to relief and he smiled. Landry had always known her own mind. Infuriatingly strong-willed, impossible to deter. Unfailingly loyal, even before they'd started sleeping together. Even before the Wrath. She'd been his security chief during the…little misunderstanding and had followed him into exile. Not because of him exactly, he would never flatter himself that much. She was loyal to people who did the right thing and back then, he was a man who did the right thing. And Landry, unlike Lorca, excelled at self-punishment.


	4. Very gravely

Speaking of which… 

He depressed the comms switch again. "Open secure channel, Commander Landry- voice ID Gabriel Lorca," he said and waited for the confirmation of the link. 

"Go ahead, captain," she said, aware that while her dismissal had likely irked him, it wouldn't have been enough to open a secure channel to call her back. He preferred to express his displeasure in person. 

"We have a security leak, commander." 

She swore under her breath as the implications of the Emperor's message infiltrating both crew and prisoners dawned. 

"When you're finished," he said, demurring to her colorful and multi-syllabic rage. "Find it, would you? Quickly, commander… but quietly," he said thinking of imperial rage and imperial eyes in unexpected places. 

"Oh, I will, captain." 

And just like that, he knew it would be done. Landry wouldn't rest until she'd run the leaks to ground. 

"Anything else?" she asked, her mind already on her quarry. 

He paused. "Actually, yes." He licked his lips as he stumbled over how to begin. "Tell me, no, commander." 

Silence on the line. 

"Commander?" 

"Yes…?" she responded hesitantly. 

"Tell me 'no.' When we got this task I had one thought; well, two thoughts. One of them was booze. The other was you." 

"What an honor," she said drily. 

"I won't allow you to get hurt," he said. "Not for this. Not again." Screams echoed through his mind. Hollow-eyed crewmembers, listlessly saluting at the completion of their… mission. News of suicide after suicide, disappearance, addiction of a crew damned by their actions, by his misguided leadership, trickled through the universe even now. 

"What an ordinary person will or won't allow rarely intersects with the pain powerful people want to inflict, Gabe." 

She hadn't called him that in ages. He decided to press the advantage. "Elle, I -" 

Her voice softened. "All we have, all we are, is what we choose to do." 

Silence on his end of the line now. 

"Besides, you're getting a little ahead of yourself aren't you? As always, putting the tragic cart before the horse," she teased. 

"If I'd done that years ago, we wouldn't be…we wouldn't have. If I'd thought ahead then – " 

"The past is a new planet, _Captain Lorca_. Fun to colonize, but wouldn't want to live there." _Captain_. So the conversation was closed. 

"Let's understand the leaks first and then see where we are," she continued. "Where we are in the here and now. Then, we can choose. All we can control is what we want and what we do to get it. Speaking of which…" her voice had an unmistakable note of mirth in it. "Be careful with the ensign-" 

This time, he was the one to close the line. 

What we want…he flashed to the promise of her smile and the shape of her in the functional ISS uniform. 

"Security," he called to the system, "Tell me the whereabouts of Lt. Ash Tyler for the past two days." 

"Lt. Ash Tyler, date of birth –" 

"Skip biographical details, security." 

"Ash Tyler was taken to the bri…. 

When the record finished its dry recitation, Lorca started to laugh. But how to use it? 

"Captain?" 

"Go ahead." 

"Tyler's here to see you." 

He smiled to himself. He was about to play escort to the most beautiful woman he'd laid eyes on in quite some time. What a day. He smiled again, straightened his uniform, and opened the door with a rakish smile. "So glad you decided to join me for a little…Ash," he finished, looking directly into the distinctly unsmiling face of Lt. Ash Tyler. Behind him stood Ava, her eyes cast meekly downward. _Ah, not Tyler is here to see you but Tylers are here to see you._

"Captain Lorca, I was so pleased when my baby sister told me about your _generous_ offer," he said, looking anything but. 

"And am I glad to see you, Lt. Tyler. Ensign, good evening," he greeted, looking over Ash's shoulder. "I trust your second day went well?" 

"Yes, sir." Perfectly appropriate formality. 

_No, this won't do at all._

He clapped his hands briskly in a passable imitation of enthusiasm. "Let's make this family reunion a little test, shall we? Ash, you'll show the ensign the ship, tell her about its history, and mission and so on and I will attempt to understand why in all the regaling of your adventures you didn't stop and take the time to show your sister how to navigate the ship," he said, his blue eyes turning to ice. 

"What? I was…" 

"Ash was on mids, captain," Ava interjected. "Besides, I knew the other medical staff would show me the ropes eventually." 

"I wasn't aware you were on a midnight shift, Lieutenant," Lorca said mildly, trying gauge Ash's reaction. 

His dark brown eyes, so much like Ava's widened with fear. 

"I…" 

"I'm sorry?" Lorca asked, all innocence. "I couldn't quite hear you and more importantly, neither could your sister." Lorca looked at Ava, a woman who knew her brother was trouble but loved him anyway which made it worse – there was familiar disappointment on her face. He took the young man by the shoulders and shook him lightly. "Now, don't be so modest, Lieutenant! I checked with Security and a midnight shift isn't quite the whole story, is it?" 

"Uhhh…yeah…yes, yes sir." 

"Don't be modest," he repeated. 

"Ash?" Ava asked. 

"Oh, it's alright, Tyler, there's no need to be so secretive. It's a highly prestigious assignment and I know we told you not to spread it around but I think Ava will be able to keep a secret, don't you?" 

"Uhh, sure?" 

"He was selected by the Emperor herself for a special mission," Lorca supplied. 

Ash paled even more and startled when Ava gasped and leaped into his arms. 

"Oh, Ash! I knew you'd get back on your feet. I mean you told me about all the exciting things you were doing but I had no idea…" 

Ash nodded hastily, his eyes darting to his captain. 

"Personally picked by the Emperor," she said slowly, testing out the idea with wonder. 

Lorca observed her admiration with a sting of jealousy. _To be the object of such hope and joy._ "Lieutenant? Ensign?" he reminded them. 

Ava guiltily hopped out of his arms and straightened her uniform. "My apologies, captain." 

"No, no, not at all. But I would like your brother to give you a bit more of the basics of living and working aboard the Wrath. Lead the way, Lieutenant," he prodded Ash, who stumbled over his words a bit as they exited Lorca's ready room before easing into his customary strut and a quite adequate explanation of the history of the ship. 

Lorca stayed a step back with Ava, pointing out the subtle color markers for each hallway, which she dutifully memorized. A quick study, and her questions during their walk were sophisticated, pressing Ash to explain seeming contradictions, clarify ambiguities, or provide details and nuance of the Wrath's workings. 

Suddenly she stopped and flashed a shadow of her mischievous smile at Lorca. 

"Lieutenant, can you guide us to Medical Bay 5? I'd love to test you on my specialty." 

Lorca nodded his assent, liking the gleam in Ava's eyes. 

As they entered the medical bay, Lorca saw two things right away. One: judging by the greetings of the other staff (once all the saluting and standing to attention was done with) that she was already genuinely liked by her colleagues. Two: Ava was playing matchmaker. And a successful one at that. One particular crew mate that Ava had gone to embrace was drawing Ash's full and urgent attention. 

No beauty compared to Ava, but the two women made quite a pair from where he stood at the entryway. Ava with her smiles and curves; the other, all hard angles and muscle. Ava leaned up to whisper something in the other woman's ear, that delicious smile playing across her face, and Lorca watched as her companion's elegant face dissolved into laughter. He glanced over at Ash. He was a goner. 

Ava squeezed her friend's hand companionably and tugged her forward to meet Ash, who seemed to have entered the room in a trance. 

Lorca stepped back into the corridor, leaving the youthful flirtations behind. He was certain Ava would be out shortly. 

Captain Lorca was very rarely wrong.

Ava emerged from the medical bay with a very contented smile. "I'm afraid my brother is a bit tied up at the moment. He won't be able to accompany us any farther." 

"What a terrible shame. Shall we?" he asked. 

She nodded. 

He looked around the emptying hallways. "Where to?" 

"Somewhere with dark corners and good drinks," she said. 

"Music to my ears, Ava. This time, I'll lead." 

They arrived at his quarters shortly thereafter. His rooms had been tidied since the latest binge and there was even a small vase of stargazers on the table – and a note in Landry's hand: 

_Predictable, Captain._

He crumpled it before Ava saw. "Please, sit wherever you like while I get us the drinks. What can I get you?" 

"Surprise me," she said as she relaxed at the table, inhaling the flowers' lush scent. 

He picked an ancient Earth drink – whiskey- and set the faceted glass in front of her. 

"Thank you, Captain." 

He raised an eyebrow at that, which got a laugh out of her. "Darlin', do you really think I'm offering you a drink right now as your captain?" 

"No," she admitted. "So what should I call you, then?" 

"My first name is Gabriel." 

"There are some captains who would kill an ensign for using their first name without their permission," she explained. 

"You're right – call me, Gabriel." 

"Gabriel," she repeated. "To you." She raised her glass in a toast. 

"To you, Ava," he replied. 

Her face flushed with pleasure at the first sips of the smoky liquor; she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply in satisfaction. He drank as well, and ran his eyes over her. 

"I meant to say it earlier, but thank you for what you did for Ash." 

"For Ash?" 

"The Emperor's mission – you must have recommended him or put him forward somehow. How else would she have known he even existed?" 

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Guilty" 

"My family always worried about him. When he got here we hoped it'd keep him out of trouble. You know, him seeing a place like this…we always worried he'd end up in someplace like this, not serving as security." 

"Ash called you his baby sister, but you sound more like…" 

"His mom? He makes me feel like it sometimes," she admitted. "I have another brother," she added. 

"He doesn't serve here does he?" 

She laughed and shook her head. 

"So, he's not going to show up at my door and fight me for your honor?" 

"Not likely." She took another sip. "He's an imperial guardsman on the Charon." She lifted her glass again. "To the Emperor – " 

"Long may she reign," he echoed. Just thinking about the Emperor made him feel like drinking so he downed his glass and got up to make another. He held the bottle out to her as a question. 

"I'm still working on this one. I like to savor things. Make the experience last as long as possible." She smiled at him over the top of her glass, the collar of her uniform already undone. 

"See, that's a difference between us. I like things fast and hard and as often as I can get them." 

"Alcohol, maps, and beautiful women?" she asked, running her finger across the delicate rim of her glass. 

"I have been known to indulge in cosmography on these long, lonely nights," he said gulping the drink down. He barely felt it – consequence of his primarily liquid diet for the past couple of years, he supposed. But he liked this game. He sat back down to look at her. So different from Landry. Landry, like him, was fast and frenetic. This could be very, pleasantly different. 

"So, what's your specialty in medical, Ava?" 

"I'm a hypospray technician – but my real passion is the medical research you do here on viral mutations. But what brings you here, Gabriel?" 

"Fame and fortune, of course." 

"And here I thought you had all of that – what 15 years ago? How old were you when you made captain?" 

"I'm 33 now. I made captain at 26. I started on warships when I was 18. Colonizing parties, rebellion-breaking, things like that." 

"And you gave up all of that to play warden all the way out here?" 

"So it would seem." 

"Hmmm," she said. "I think Ash isn't the only on a mission from the Emperor." 

That was suddenly close enough to the truth that he felt his desire fading. "What do you think of the Emperor, Ava?" he blurted. 

A shadow flitted across her face and was gone. 

"Think of…?" she trailed off uncertainly. 

He held up his hand. "Apologies, ensign. At ease." 

"My brother loves his work," she hastened to say. "Never had a bad thing to say about it," she finished urgently. 

"I'm not here to test your loyalty, Ava," he said suddenly disgusted with himself. _Even broken things have their uses._

__

__

__

__He stalked back over to the liquor cabinet to fix himself another drink. This was all going wrong somehow._ _

__

__

__

__Suddenly, a small hand appeared over his, and she took the drink from him. She dipped her finger in it and sucked the whiskey off, smiling at him. She dipped another finger and he stepped against her, kissing the drink off her lips._ _

__

__

__

__"The Emperor is a true Terran," she said abruptly. "She takes what she wants and is strong enough to protect what she has."_ _

__

__

__

__"And you admire that?" he said roughly, pulling her even more tightly against him._ _

__

__

__

__"I do. So, what do you want, Gabriel?" she teased, stroking him through his uniform._ _

__

__

__

__"I want you," he growled, his voice thick with lust._ _

__

__

__

__So, he took her.__

__Meanwhile...._ _

__

__

__

__"You look beautiful when you laugh," Ash said, trying to be heard over the din in Nova, one of the Wrath's bar-dance clubs._ _

__

__

__

__"Oh?" she said._ _

__

__

__

__"I mean…not that you're not beautiful now…you are…"_ _

__

__

__

__"You're really not very good at this," she observed.__

__"Yeah, it's weird because I usually am."_ _

__

__

__

__"Get a lot of practice, do you?" she said, sipping her coffee._ _

__

__

__

__"Yes. No. Maybe?"_ _

__

__

__

__She laughed again._ _

__

__

__

__"Do you get a lot of practice, Mika?"_ _

__

__

__

__"At what, hearing terrible lines from men?"_ _

__

__

__

__"That, I don't doubt. What I was going to say was –laughing. Every time you laugh, it's like you're surprised."_ _

__

__

__

__"Maybe I am," she allowed._ _

__

__

__

__"I like it. I'm happy to help you practice. It's the least I can do for a new wrathie."_ _

__

__

__

__"Wrathie?"_ _

__

__

__

__"What we call ourselves."_ _

__

__

__

__"I see. How long have you served here, Ash?"_ _

__

__

__

__"Almost four years. Never worked in a medbay, but I hear the CMO is good. And the captain is a good one, too. Aside from the…" he mimed tipping his head back to drink._ _

__

__

__

__"He's a drinker?"_ _

__

__

__

__Ash nodded. "Doesn't let it interfere with his work though. Eh, all this work talk is boring. I want to hear more about you."_ _

__

__

__

__"Why?"_ _

__

__

__

__"Because my baby sister is an excellent judge of character- and she likes you."_ _

__

__

__

__Mika smiled again. "She's so…loving. She took me under her wing, as soon as she saw me."_ _

__

__

__

__He laughed, nodding in recognition. "When I was adopted, my brother – he's the youngest by the way, and Ava, could have told me to get spaced. She just came up to me, asked if I was going to be her big brother and when I said yes, she threw herself at me for a hug."_ _

__

__

__

__"You're adopted?"_ _

__

__

__

__"Yeah, when I was 13. I'm really lucky."_ _

__

__

__

__She went silent, then regarded him carefully. "I've never known anyone else who was adopted," she explained softly._ _

__

__

__

__"You too?" he exclaimed._ _

__

__

__

__She nodded._ _

__

__

__

__"So, do you have any siblings or is it just you?" he asked._ _

__

__

__

__"Just me."_ _

__

__

__

__"Well, that could be nice too, no one to have to share with – get their attention all to yourself."_ _

__

__

__

__"Yes, I was often the focus of my mother's undivided attention."_ _

__

__

__

__He laughed, "well, that sounds ominous."_ _

__

__

__

__Mika smiled a little. "Yes, it…she's a singular woman."_ _

__

__

__

__"Is 'singular' a euphemism for 'bitch'?" he asked._ _

__

__

__

__Her eyes widened in shock. "No, of course not! Well…maybe," she murmured into her coffee._ _

__

__

__

__"I was a total trial for my family, "Ash said. "But they never gave up on me."_ _

__

__

__

__"Maybe they'll come to their senses," she teased._ _

__

__

__

__"Did-" they both said together._ _

__

__

__

__"No, you first," he said. "By the way, do you want more coffee? No? Okay. What were you going to say?"_ _

__

__

__

__She looked around nervously as their fellow crew mates drank and fought and gambled. "Did people ever stare at you like you didn't belong?"_ _

__

__

__

__His smile fell away. "All the time."_ _

__

__

__

__"Or, or did they ever ask you where you're from?" She didn't seem nervous any more, just energized._ _

__

__

__

__"No, but originally, where do you come from originally?" he said, nodding, his smile returning._ _

__

__

__

__"Or, where did you get her?" she said leaning forward._ _

__

__

__

__"I'd always say 'the store'. My personal favorite was 'is he yours?' "_ _

__

__

__

__She covered her mouth with her hands, but he could see she was smiling behind it and her eyes were sparkling._ _

__

__

__

__"A good runner-up would always be –" he began._ _

__

__

__

__"Who are your real parents?" she guessed._ _

__

__

__

__"Oh yeah, gotta love that one," he grinned._ _

__

__

__

__"And, and did your parents ever remind you that you were adopted and that you'd never be their real kid when you did something they didn't like?" She looked at him expectantly but stopped laughing when she saw his face._ _

__

__

__

__"Wait, Mika, did your mom did that to you? That's horrible."_ _

__

__

__

__She swallowed hard and leaned back in her chair, cool, reserved, and regal once more._ _

__

__

__

__"She was doing the best she could."_ _

__

__

__

__"She sounds real singular alright."_ _

__

__

__

__"Ash, I should go," she started to stand up._ _

__

__

__

__"Wait, Mika, I'm sorry," he stood and reached out for her hand. "I just…that sounds like it could be really lonely, that’s all."_ _

__

__

__

__She went still and looked at him again. "Yes, I suppose it was."_ _

__

__

__

__"You ever think about having kids yourself?" he asked._ _

__

__

__

__"Sometimes. You?"_ _

__

__

__

__"Yeah. It'd be awesome to be the kind of dad I have – be that for someone else."_ _

__

__

__

__She nodded. "It'd be nice to be the kind of mother I…"_ _

__

__

__

__"…would have wanted?" he said quietly._ _

__

__

__

__He slid his hand across the table, fingertips just brushing hers._ _

__

__

__

__"Well, Mika, my name is Ash Tyler and I'm from Earth."_ _

__

__

"But where are you _originally_ from, Ash Tyler?" 

__

__

__

___"The store," he grinned, enjoying the banter._ _ _

__

__

__

___"I hope Ava kept the receipt."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"Very funny! And where are your real parents, Mika?"_ _ _

__

__

__

___She stopped smiling again. "They died in a Klingon attack."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"Oh shit, Mika. I'm so sorry." He squeezed her hand again._ _ _

__

__

__

___"It's alright. It was a long time ago."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"That doesn't mean it stops hurting. Mine are still alive – they just gave me up. But I love my family – Ava, Arn – that's my little brother – my parents – they're the only family I could ever want."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"You know, when you asked me for a drink, I thought I'd be weathering heavy –handed pick-up lines and superficial conversation."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"So sorry to disappoint."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"Do better next time," she commanded._ _ _

__

__

__

___His eyes lit up. "Next time?" he asked cautiously._ _ _

__

__

__

___"Next time," she repeated._ _ _

__

__

__

___He grinned. "Next time, I promise to be painfully shallow."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"See that you are. However, I should call it a night. I want to be well-rested for duty tomorrow."_ _ _

__

__

__

___"Can I…walk you back to your quarters?"_ _ _

__

__

__

___"You may."_ _ _

__

__

__

___They walked the Wrath's serpentine corridors in a companionable silence, with Ash sneaking glances at her profile. She was…incredible. And he wanted more._ _ _

__

__

__

___"Goodnight, Ash Tyler, originally from Earth."_ _ _

__

__

__

___He sighed dramatically. "I love the way you say my name. It's like a flirtatious elementary school teacher."_ _ _

__

__

__

___She laughed again, more gently this time._ _ _

__

__

__

___"Goodnight, Mika Filiana. You're amazing, you do know that, right?" He leaned against the door, his warm brown eyes on hers as the door closed._ _ _

__

__

__

___Ash walked away smiling, knowing he'd be dreaming of her that night._ _ _

__

__

__


	5. Go on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter (though I've been seeding things in all along) directly incorporates a lot more of the "Alice in Wonderland/Through the Looking Glass" quotes/framing than previously. 
> 
> I'm definitely interested in the psychology of trauma and how someone like Michael would learn to cope with and thrive with the Emperor as her mother-figure in the cutthroat Terran mirror-verse. 
> 
> In the prime universe, Michael seems to love the stories because of their sense of wonder and awed exploration, and likely (though the show never says) because of their play with language. In a mirror-universe, I imagined that Michael would take very different solace and inspiration from these stories, still as the titular character of Alice of course, but interacting with the absurd and brutal parts of Alice's journey (and interactions with the Cheshire cat, Queen of Hearts, and then Red Queen etc.) more keenly. 
> 
> Anyway, same caveats as before -- chapter is unfinished but I post as I write because I need to keep momentum going.

The Abyss was more familiar than Michael expected. She'd accompanied the Emperor on her rounds to the agonizers, of course, usually when she was in the mood to punish…to educate on any number of mistakes: talking to a boy without permission, not answering quickly enough, answering too quickly, having a girl in her rooms, smiling widely, and of course, not smiling enough. 

She memorized their crimes, an easy enough task: treason, treason, and more treason. That was the right-side up reason – the reason that she whispered in response to the Emperor's queries or incentivizing slaps. The reason that was true as she looked each traitor in the eye with the boldness the Emperor valued. But there were other reasons as well. Reasons that gleamed on the slick black floors (easier to clean up blood and other fluids) and the glossy transparent cages (easier to clean up the Emperor's mistakes). Those were the looking-glass reasons, the upside down reasons, the reasons that stretched the length of a scream. 

_Too influential_

_Knew too much_

_Convenient_

Convenient was how you spelled i-n-n-o-c-e-n-t as far as ten-year old Michael could tell. The woman that girl had become saw easily that the Abyss had all the latest conveniences. 

A general who was too open about her victories, a terrorist whose only crime was advocating for a military consul to serve the Emperor, one after another, their looking glass reasons called out to her. So, she did now what she'd done her whole life. She made her face a mask, a mirror to reflect only what the person looking at her would desire. She buried her emotions, her thoughts (how could such things exist, if the Emperor would not approve of them?) deep down, so as to not give her away. 

The general wasn't a general. She was a Jabberwock. 

The terrorist – a Jubjub bird. 

The rest? Bandersnatches. 

None of them could be real and none deserved her sympathy. 

The Emperor loved herself and Michael and expected the same. Other feelings were not to be encouraged. The one and only time Michael had shown sympathy for an imperial victim – one tear! Just one! – the situation had become indelibly worse. 

"You must think me so unfair, Michael," she said languidly. 

"Not at all, mother." _dontlookathimdontlookdontlook_

"Cruel, then? As savage as those traitors say?" 

"No, mother." 

The heating rod inched closer to the traitor's remaining eye. 

"I –" Michael began. 

"Hmmmm…?" The rod was close enough to singe eyelashes now. 

"I was weak, mother." 

"And?" 

"I lost my way. It won't happen again." 

The rod withdrew and Michael allowed herself a moment of hope before the Emperor arced the heat against her victim's throat. 

The smell of burned meat filled the air. 

_At least it was quick_

The Emperor held the rod alight, bits of flesh burned to its surface. 

"Lost _your way_ , Michael? All the ways here belong to me. See that you remember that." 

"Yes, mother." 

How terrifying could a prison torture ward ever be to someone raised by the Emperor for the past 15 years?

The Chief Medical Officer, Dr. Ellera Gilibtas, was indeed good. She'd served in three other prisons prior to the Wrath and as Michael soon found out, began as an interrogator with the Terran Military Intelligence Service. She spoke little and gave away even less though Michael suspected that the older woman might know her true identity; she might even have been tasked by the Emperor to watch her. In any case, she was still the most worthy adversary here. Her two assistants, Enetak and Paltur were normal, average, run-of-the-mill, garden variety psychopaths. 

Dr. Joanna Enetak specialized in historical surgical procedures – amputations, grafts between species, all without anesthesia. Wrathies called her Frankentak, but only in whispers. Farath Paltur was an artist with neurochemical persuasion, hallucinations; the crew called him Dr. Nightmare behind his back. He had the unfortunate habit of laughing too loudly at some private joke and staring off into space, unblinkingly dreaming of his next concoction. Of the two, Enetak was far worse. She loved her work and spoke to everyone – patients, colleagues, and superiors alike, with a gratingly singsong stream of pleasantries and clichés. 

For her first assignment, Michael was charged with transferring patients from the Abyss to the medical bays. While the trio was skilled at inflicting pain and keeping their victims nominally alive and responsive, the psychological and physical strain could be too much, too quickly. In that case, the prisoners would need sustained care away from their living nightmare for awhile. Away from Dr. Enetak's sunshine yellow walls painted with childish rainbows and smiling animals from a thousand planets ("We're all mad here," she chirped as she showed Michael the room. "Yes, doctor.") 

Dr. Gilibtas merely watched the spectacle from her dimly-lit office where she perused interro footage and transcripts, examined Paltur's latest chemical signatures for possible production value in other prisons or the imperial drug trade (good narcotics for the Terrans in favor, bad ones for everyone else – all addictive) and …well, Michael wasn't sure what else she got up to behind closed office doors. 

"Lt. Filiana!" 

"Yes, Dr. Enetak?" 

"I've got such a treat for you! Prisoner AX-300Q for transfer. Yes, isn't that right my darling," she tutted toward the prone figure on the gurney behind her. "Here's his file –an albino Klingon if you can believe that! Isn't he something? Take him to medical bay 5 and- " she waggled her finger at Michael with mock severity, "make sure he takes his medicine so he can get all better." 

"Yes, doctor," Michael calmly responded, taking her position at the head of the gurney. 

"AX300Qqqqqqqq..." Enetak cooed. 

Michael sensed no movement from the figure. 

"It's always darkest before the dawn, my darling! Don't worry, I'll see you again…very soon." 

With that, Michael and AX-300Q left that yellow hell behind for the cool, dark corridors of the ISS Wrath.


End file.
